Cindered Carols
by samdeco
Summary: A tragedy and a miracle give Harry and Ginny a new outlook on their lives.
1. Jambalaya

**Cindered Carols**

"We are _not_ naming him Albus Severus!" Ginny scowled and continued cutting onions for the jambalaya they would be eating for dinner that night. There was an old witch's tale that spicy Cajun food induced labor, and now that Harry and Ginny's unnamed second child was still in Ginny's belly a whole week past his due date, she was dying to get the little bruiser out. "Think of all the kids at school! He'll be teased."

"It's a fine name!" Harry growled. "What else are we going to call him?"

"Daddy!" James called from the ground, pulling on the leg of Harry's pants. Harry picked up the toddler and hugged him close. The two had formed an unbreakable connection during Ginny's second pregnancy. He had become the primary parent in the past nine months while Ginny was busy with doctor's appointments, nursery color schemes, and other baby drama. But he loved spending time with James, and he also loved to not have to decide which kind of nappy would be softest.

"I've already suggested plenty of names," Ginny retorted, putting her hand on the hip of her dangerously large belly. "I think John Arthur Potter is a fine name: short and simple and most importantly, he's not likely to be teased with a name like John Arthur."

"First, the name John has no meaning to it, and second—" Harry was cut off by Ginny. He'd never been able to talk over her, especially when she was this pregnant and angry with him.

"John was Remus's middle name!" Ginny pointed out harshly.

"Well fine, but—"

"We are not going to name him after Snape!" Ginny cried. "Neither us even liked the man when he was alive."

"Fine but—Wait I did! —"

"Maybe I'd _consider _Albus as a _middle_ name, but as a _first_ name…" Ginny stopped talking, and tears started spilling down her cheeks.

"Oh, Gin," Harry said, immediately cooling down. He put James back on the ground gently and went over to his wife. He felt guilty. They hadn't meant to get pregnant again. They had certainly wanted more kids, but not as many as Ginny's parents, and they certainly hadn't wanted another baby so soon. After all, James was only one and a half. And the pregnancy itself had been difficult. He'd always been told that the second child would be more difficult than the first, but he hadn't really believed it until everything that could go wrong did go wrong. Now they had reached and passed the home stretch, and Ginny and Harry were told to sit tight; their little no-name would come when he was ready. Seven days later, he still wasn't ready.

Harry reached for Ginny and intertwined his fingers in hers, which were resting on the counter. She pulled her hand free and continued stirring the large pan of jambalaya. Without looking at him, Ginny took a step away and wiped her eyes on a hand towel hanging on the edge of the sink.

"It's just the onions. I'm fine." Ginny sniffled, though her voice was shaking. Harry knew she had every reason to cry, and he wasn't making the situation any better.

Harry tried again, going in for a hug, and this time Ginny let him. He squeezed her close, or as close as he could without crushing the enormous bump between them and said, "We can name him John Arthur if you really want."

Ginny wiped her face on her sleeve and looked up at him with sparkling eyes. "Oh God, I've been a horrible wife these past nine months, haven't I?"

"No," Harry said. If they were being honest, he was the one who had been at work far to often, and home far to little, and never around when she needed him, and nowhere to be found when James said his first words. "I've been a terrible husband. I shouldn't have gotten you pregnant again so soon."

Ginny rolled her eyes and smiled. "It wasn't entirely your fault. I was there too, remember?"

"Oh yeah," Harry said, closing his eyes and remembering the night nine months ago. It had been the four-times-postponed wedding of Ron and Hermione. There had been plenty of drinking that night, mostly due to the fact that everyone thought either Ron or Hermione would chicken out _again_. But they hadn't, and so everyone drank a little more than they needed to that night. And maybe weren't as careful as they should have been. Apparently Ron and Hermione weren't as careful as they should have been either. Their first baby was due in a couple of weeks.

"You know what? Why don't you go and rest? You definitely deserve a break after all of this," Harry said. She looked like she needed a good nap too. The bags under Ginny's eyes were dark and renounced. Her posture was more slouched and tired. And even her movements were slower and more lethargic than she normally was. "I can cook this, then I'll put James to bed. Then I can wake you up in the middle of the night, and we can hope that this," he gestured to the jambalaya, "finally makes the little bugger come out."

He loosened the spatula from Ginny's fingers. She kissed him slowly, and he twirled her around once before she walked out of the kitchen.

"Okay James," Harry said picking up his son again. "This magical dinner Mummy made is going to bring you a new brother."

James stared up at him with his bright brown eyes that reminded Harry so much of Ginny's. "What do you suggest we name him?"

James smiled. Then began clapping and screamed, "Poopy!" exercising the new word that Teddy had taught him. Harry made a mental note to give Teddy a haranguing for that one.

"You want to name your brother Poopy?" Harry asked. If Ginny kept bashing down his name ideas, Poopy might be the only name left for the poor kid. James smiled and laughed his infectious toddler laugh that Harry couldn't help but smile at.

From the living room, he heard the noise of the piano. Ginny's Auntie Muriel's piano was the only thing the Potters received when Muriel finally passed, but what a lovely thing it was. At the touch of Ginny's magical fingers, the instrument produced the most mellifluous music Harry had ever heard. Although he was a little biased—Dudley's trombone lessons were not the greatest of sounds. Ginny was always drawn to the piano when she was stressed.

Ginny was playing a Christmas song, "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas." Harry had almost forgotten that Christmas was only days away. With everything at work, being promoted to Head Auror, trying to be helpful around the house, and taking care of James with everything that Ginny had been through, he had almost forgotten about his favorite holiday. They hadn't even found time to put up the tree yet. It would only be James's second Christmas.

Harry looked outside. Instead of a winter snow, a somber, spirit-crushing rain was pouring out.

"Are you excited for Christmas, James?" Harry said trying to regain possession of his glasses, which James had wiped off of his face. James attempted to put the glasses on his face, and Harry had to admit, the boy looked remarkably like him. He wondered if the new baby would look more like him or Ginny. He suspected Ginny. She seemed to be closer to him than Harry was, and not just because she was his mother. Harry had always been closer to James and Ginny to the new baby. It was just how things went. Harry wondered what would happen when they had a third, then reprimanded himself. More children were out of the question for at least ten years after this baby.

"Through the years, we all will be together, if the Fates allow…" Harry sang only slightly off-key, twirling with James in the center of the stuffy kitchen. James giggled again and Harry tousled his jet-black hair. Suddenly the music stopped.

"Harry?" Ginny's voice floated through the house urgently.

"Yes?" Harry said setting James down lightly on the tiles of the kitchen floor. He knew that voice. He knew what was coming next. He had been through this once before. Somehow the experience didn't make him any less nervous the second time around.

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><p>AN: I know it's seven months early, but I just couldn't resist putting up this story. I also know that you are going to reprimand me because I posted this before I finished my other stories, but I just couldn't help myself. I hope you enjoyed it. In total, it'll only be, like, three chapters so not that long. Please leave a review if you want. I like to know your opinions.

* * *

><p><strong>Sammie<strong>


	2. Hospital Visits

**Cindered Carols**

Harry emerged from the hospital room sweaty, shaking, and exhausted, but he knew it was nothing compared to what Ginny was going through right now. Molly practically leaped at him from her chair. He nodded, and she took his place in the hospital room.

Harry's family took up almost half of the waiting room they were occupying. Everyone was there: Teddy, Arthur holding James, Bill and Fleur and their kids, Charlie, George, Percy and Audrey and their twins toddlers, and Ron and a very pregnant Hermione who was sprawled across four chairs and snoring loudly. Most of them had arrived only hours ago, when the baby was supposed to be born.

"How long, mate?" Ron asked. He looked almost as white as Harry. They all did.

"Twenty-one hours, but they said it wouldn't be much longer," Harry panted. He didn't quite know why he was out of breath. He didn't quite know a lot of things. What was on the forefront of his mind this instant was the fact that after twenty-seven hours of labor, little no-name had not been born yet. It seemed unnaturally long considering it was Ginny's second child.

"Everything is perfect for a healthy delivery," the nurses repeated over and over. "He's going to be a big baby." But still, their boy had not yet come. And they thought it had taken James a long time to be born.

"Here sit down," Arthur said, removing his coat from the chair next to him. "You'll need all the sleep you can get. You've been awake far too long."

Harry clambered over to the blue vinyl chair across the waiting room. "I'm not going to sleep. That baby won't be born without me!"

"We'll wake you," Arthur said smiling encouragingly.

"Yeah, the second child is the most important," Charlie put in grinning.

Hermione stirred and opened her eyes. She sat up and rubbed her backside. Then she looked around the waiting room to see if the baby had been born yet. There were little red marks all over her left cheek, where the hood of her jacket had imprinted into her face where she slept.

"Is it normal for labor to go this long?" Hermione asked nervously. She started digging around in her large, suitcase-sized purse for a book, _What To Expect When You're Expecting. _

"Twenty-one hours is pretty unusual," a nurse in a teddy bear-print scrub said while she passed by. "But not unheard of. How many weeks?"

"Thirty-eight," Hermione said, situating herself again.

"Oh soon!" the nurse prattled. Nurses loved to talk about that kind of thing.

Harry grinned at Hermione and took James from Arthur. The bouncing baby gabbed on merrily about things Harry was too exhausted to translate and was very exuberant given the hour of the morning. Harry smiled and laughed at James. There were a million things he adored about his first-born, but the one thing he appreciated the most right now was that, like his Mummy, James was not a crier.

After a while, no new news had entered or left Ginny's hospital room except for a few nurses saying, "It'll be soon," like they had been for the past four hours. Harry thought it wouldn't hurt to rest his eyes for a few minutes. He felt his eyelids sink as he struggled uselessly against them, trying to keep them open.

It seemed only seconds later that he was being forced awake by his family. Arthur had taken back James, and it took the combined efforts of Charlie, Bill, and Percy to rouse Harry from his sleep.

"Hey, mate!" Bill said, flicking Harry quite hard on the side of his head. Harry jumped and rubbed his head in pain. "She's ready for you!"

Harry was suddenly full of energy. His heart was pumping, and he practically ran down the hall of St. Mungo's to reach Ginny.

* * *

><p>"I still don't think it's a good idea to call him Albus Severus," Ginny whispered, buttoning the front of her hospital gown back up. She handed the baby to Harry who unsuccessfully attempted to swaddle him in a blue duck-adorned blanket.<p>

"It's your hormones telling you that," Harry said, supporting the baby's neck as Ginny had told him to a million times—it wasn't _his_ fault that he didn't have much experience in the baby department: the Dursley's were not that great at filling him in about these kinds of things. "In a few hours you'll see the light."

"Mmhmm," Ginny moaned as she rolled onto her side. Between Harry and Ginny, they'd be exaggerating if they said they'd gotten two hours of sleep in the past three days. Luckily, the doctors said no-name was an exceptionally healthy baby, and they could probably be at home tomorrow if everything checked out. And from there, Molly and Arthur would be staying with them for another month to help with the boys when Harry went back to work.

The unnamed baby looked like Harry. He had been certain after all the work Ginny had put into giving birth to him that he would be a mirror image of her, but he wasn't. He had bright green eyes, ones that Harry had gotten so many comments on in his lifetime because they supposedly looked like his mother's. And his hair. Already his hair was about half an inch long, and it grew the same way that Harry's did, which is to say in no particular direction except everywhere.

Harry was about to put the infant in the tiny crib in their hospital room and get some well-needed rest, when he felt a tug on the lower half of his pant leg. He looked down to see James toddling around and smiling up at him. Molly and Arthur, who had been camping in the living room for the past few days, were standing smiling at him in the doorway.

"Want to see him?" Harry asked. James continued to smile with his tiny toddler teeth.

Carefully, so as to not drop anyone, he shifted the baby onto his left arm, and used his right arm to help James scramble up onto the puffy rocking chair in the corner of the mint-green hospital room. James waited patiently to see his brother. By now he was just as exhausted as everyone else. Molly and Arthur had been taking him out to eat, and to the playground to play, and on tours around St. Mungo's, but there were only so many times one could play that game with the different shaped wires and beads.

Harry lowered the baby down to James whose eyes were wide and curious. He never let go of the baby but let James 'hold' him, which made James mad. Apparently little brothers were no longer cool.

"Poopy, Poopy!" James yelled loudly at Harry.

"Okay fine!" Harry said tiredly, not having the energy to fight James. He hadn't realized at this point that "Poopy" was a name James would give his little brother for the rest of his childhood—at least until he discovered something more vulgar to call the poor kid.

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><p>AN: Here's another chapter. I don't really have that much to say about this one... Please leave a review if you would like.

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><p><strong>Sammie<strong>


	3. Home Sweet Home

**Cindered Carols**

"Home sweet home," Ginny said from the back of the Ministry car that was transporting them via sky to their home in Godric's Hollow that was the same home Harry had lived in for the first year of his life. "I'm just glad everything finally turned out perfectly, and our little baby is healthy. Oh goodness, we still need to give him a name."

She sounded exhausted, and she was. They all were. In fact, they had sent the new baby and James with Ginny's parents to ensure they at least got a bit of downtime, even if it was in the few minutes between St. Mungo's and Godric's Hollow. Molly had insisted that she take the two boys: moments of downtime would be few and far between for the rest of their lives, she had said. As a mother of seven, she obviously knew best.

Ginny buried her head under the sleeve of Harry's winter coat. He wrapped his arm around her and hugged her close. It seemed like only last week that it had been just them living alone. Now they had not one but two little lives to care for. Some days, Harry hardly knew how they managed.

Now the days seemed shorter. Everything seemed shorter. There just wasn't enough time in the day to do everything he used to enjoy. He didn't get to spend enough time alone with Ginny. He didn't get to spend enough time alone with James. He didn't get enough time to finish everything he needed to at work. And he certainly didn't get enough time to spend with all of his family, together.

Even now, the car ride to their house hadn't taken enough time. It was shorter than it was supposed to be. They swooped down to Plant Avenue where their house was located, unplottable by everyone except for the Potters and their most trusted friends and family.

"Thanks," Harry muttered to the driver as he scooted along the seat of the car, opened the door, and helped Ginny out.

"I guess the other car isn't here yet," Harry said, pulling their small suitcase from the seat next to Ginny. He stood it upright on the sidewalk.

"Hopefully they don't show up for a while," Ginny said smiling. Harry knew she loved to be a mother to James and now to the new baby, but right now all she wanted was to sleep.

Together, they apparated onto the front step of their house. Harry's protective charms around the place made it so that the only way to get in was to apparate directly into it. He felt the unpleasantly familiar sensation of being a tennis ball pulled through a sock, but as soon as he felt like he wouldn't breathe again, the sensation stopped.

He opened his eyes then closed them and then opened and closed them again and again hoping that he was deliriously dreaming. He realized he wasn't when Ginny's grasp on his hand became numbingly tight, even through his heavy winter coat.

Harry didn't know what to say for several minutes. He kept hoping he'd be pinched and it would all disappear.

Ginny spoke for him, slowly as if she were about to cry. "When we were cooking the jambalaya the other night, and the baby came…did you remember to turn _off_ the stove before we went to the hospital?"

Harry's heart sunk so low that it threatened to bring him to the ground. The home lay in cinders at their feet, a large, blackened skeleton of a building. Everything they had was ruined. Everything they had worked for, saved for, spent their money on, it was all gone. And it was all Harry's fault.

Harry took a step through the metal frame that was once the front door. He walked inside to find that everything, even the pictures that hung on the walls, was reduced to nothing but charred, blackened ghosts.

He couldn't say anything. Neither could Ginny, as she followed him through the door and they looked at the cinders of a life they had once led. The only thing that had survived the inferno that had destroyed the house was the piano. Aunt Muriel's magical piano.

It was several minutes before either of them talked again. Several minutes was enough to get Ginny a sufficient amount of anger worked up inside of her.

"This is your fault!" she finally yelled. Harry had been looking at the white and black keys of the piano when she yelled it. He turned grimly to face her, feeling too guilty to defend himself.

"You were the one who forgot to turn off the stove!" She said taking a step toward him. She was still a good twenty feet away, but the effect was just as menacing, especially when it was his wife yelling at him.

"You were the one who insisted we live here!" Ginny took another step forward.

"You were the one who thought the extra protection charms on the house would be a good idea. Now look what we've gotten! A burned up house!" Ginny said as she took another step toward him. He shifted himself in front of the piano.

"You were the one who thought you'd take that promotion at the ministry when _I_ was six months pregnant!" Another step forward.

"You were the one who didn't have time to help with doctor's appointments or clothes shopping or lamaze classes!" Ginny yelled again. Every time she said the word "you," her voice was full of more contempt and hate than the time before it, at least in Harry's mind.

"You were the one that got us into this mess!" Ginny said. And with a final step toward him, she shoved him squarely in the center of his chest, knocking him on top of the piano with a strident pounding of the keys.

"And you've probably ruined this too!" she said, gesturing to the piano.

Harry got up, and tried to dust the cinders off of his pants. He wasn't upset at Ginny. Even though some of her arguments were a little bit unfair, he wasn't mad. He deserved every punch she threw.

Unfortunately the front door led directly to the living room, and unfortunately the rest of their family happened to apparate there at exactly that second. Harry felt the tension in the room heighten as a very happy looking set of grandparents walked in one holding James and the other holding a car seat containing the other child in it. It broke Harry's heart to see their faces turn from that of elation and pride to that of shock, sadness, and concern.

Ginny's anger seemed to diffuse the second they walked in the door. She sank to the middle of the grey floor. She put her cheek down against the cinders of the floor and started weeping.

It was one of the things Harry had admired about Ginny—the fact that, like James, she rarely cried. She had cried more in the past few weeks then Harry had ever heard her cry in her entire life. But if she ever had a moment where she should cry, now would that moment.

Harry scrambled on the floor toward her. He wanted to hug her and let her know everything would be all right eventually. He wanted to let her know that he would be there for her forever, and that they were in this together. He tried to reach out and hug her, but she pushed him away.

Ginny lifted her head up from the ground. Her face was wet with tears and black from the ashes that clung to it. Her hair had fallen from its loose bun and was sticking out in every direction.

"Go, Harry. Just go," she said, and she sunk to the floor again. James started crying. Like it was contagious, their little newborn began to cry too. Harry stood there for a moment torn between what to do next. James's screams became louder and louder.

"Shhh," Arthur hushed quietly, trying to go unnoticed.

"Please, Harry," Ginny said again. Her face was soaked with tears and soot, as she looked him directly in the eyes.

Harry did what she said. He had never wanted to hurt her, but the damage was already done. He stalked shamefully out the door, taking the crying James from Arthur on his way out.

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><p>AN: Looks like things are heating up (ugh, that was insensitive of me), hopefully everything works out in the end. Please leave a review if you want to, and remember that it only takes twenty seconds or less, depending on your typing speed. See ya next time!

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><p><strong>Sammie<strong>


	4. Hermione

**Cindered Carols**

The doorbell of number twelve Grimmauld Place rang, waking up Mrs. Black's portrait and causing her to shriek mirthlessly, filling the entire house with her noisome voice. Her voice pounded painfully in Harry's already throbbing head. He closed his eyes and applied pressure above his left eye. This was once the place he held when his lighting bolt-shaped scar hurt, but he knew it wasn't his scar. That hadn't hurt him for a great many years.

James continued crying, as he had been ever since they had arrived at Grimmauld Place two days ago.

Harry leapt up from the chair he had been trying to nap in and walked over to the front door. It stuck for a moment, as old jambs sometimes do, but as Harry was still walking down the hall, it opened and Hermione tumbled ungracefully through it.

"That woman!" she muttered to herself, and she waved her wand at Mrs. Black's portrait. The heavy black curtains swung over the painting, and she was quiet again.

Hermione stood up—it took her more effort than normal because of her large belly—and then she dusted herself off, apparently the house's floors were in need of a good vacuuming. She took off her coat and gloves and loosened her scarf letting it fall to the floor in a white heap.

Without looking up, she pushed her things to the side of the hall and said in a low, frighteningly blank voice, "I thought I'd find you here."

Harry looked up at her. He would have rather she yelled at him or slapped him or even looked at him. The woman had a knack for hitting his guilty spot with little to no effort. Sometimes, like now, it was almost unbearable.

He forced himself to look up at her face, but she wasn't looking back. They stood like that for what seemed like forever. The pounding in Harry's head only worsened as the silence wore on, but he wasn't going to be the first one to move. Hermione still had more to say.

Finally, she looked up at him. Her eyes were full of disappointment. Harry never wanted to make her disappointed ever again. He was listening with his fullest attention when she began to talk to him.

"Harry," she said. "I know you must be feeling pretty badly." For someone so smart, Hermione always seemed to downplay what people were actually feeling, and Harry was feeling a thousand times worse than 'pretty badly.' But you can't run from your problems."

"I'm not running from anything. She told me to leave," Harry said stiffly. He was still staring into Hermione's eyes. They were teeming with concern.

"That's not what she was saying at all, Harry. That's what you wanted to hear," Hermione's voice was soft and slow and stabbing Harry with a million things he couldn't bear to hear right now.

"No," Harry said defiantly. "She doesn't want me. She didn't want me to put the protection charms on the house. She didn't want me to take that job at the ministry. She wanted me to be around more often, and I wasn't. She doesn't want me anymore."

Hermione's stony face seemed to crumble before him. She struggled to keep it austere, she she couldn't. "She doesn't think that at all, Harry," Hermione said somberly. "She needs you right now, and you're being a coward."

"But she said—"

"It doesn't matter what she _said_, Harry!" Hermione cried, her temper flaring. "I doesn't matter if she said she wanted you to jump off of a bridge. You're her family for heavens sake! You can't just walk out on her like that! Remember what you said to Remus in this very hallway when we were seventeen? Your family needs you no matter what."

"That was different. Tonks—Nymphadora needed him. Ginny doesn't need me, she doesn't want me anymore."

"What makes you think that? The fact that she said it after she had just seen the ruins of your house? That's not a good reason, Harry. I think you're scared of going back. I think you're scared of how she'll react," Hermione said.

For the first time in the entire conversation, Harry lowered his eyes away from hers. He didn't speak for a long time. Hermione had hit the nail on the head with that one. He was afraid that she would be furious with him for leaving her, again. But he was more afraid that the mindless arguments he had been spewing to Hermione would actually be true. That Ginny wouldn't want him or need him or love him anymore because of this.

"Don't think that. Not for a second," Hermione said as if she were reading his thoughts. Harry looked back up at her to see that her eyes were full of tears. "She needs you now more than ever. When she's pushing you away, when she says she doesn't want you anymore, that's when she needs you most of all."

Her tone was gaunt and hollow. Harry looked back up at her to find that her eyes were sparkled with tears. "It was just a house, Harry. You can't leave over something as dumb as a burnt up house."

Harry averted his eyes again. Hermione didn't say anything more.

James continued to cry in the background. Harry couldn't help but rush over to him to see what was the matter. Little James was going to be a heartbreaker when he grew up.

"Sorry, buddy," Harry said, picking up James and trying to keep him quiet. "Sorry, I know you miss her. I miss her too."

James's sobs subsided, but his little twenty-pound body quivered sadly in Harry's arms. Harry sat down on a dusty couch with James sitting on his lap.

"Daddy?" James asked. Harry looked down into James's bright brown eyes, still wet.

"Yeah?" Harry asked. James didn't say anything else. Harry knew he missed his mummy and maybe even Poopy.

He hadn't realized until now how much James looked like her. Apart from his dark brown hair, he looked exactly like her, in toddler form. Looking at James he knew he could never break apart his family, no matter how tough the going got. And sitting on the couch in the living room of number twelve Grimmauld Place, he knew what he had to do.

"Kreacher?" he whispered quietly.

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><p>AN: Well this chapter left me with a sour taste in my mouth. I don't think I'm particularly good at writing angst-ish stuff, and I don't much like to read it, but whatever...The good news is that the worst of it is over, and the last few chapters will be...well I'm not going to spoil the ending! I hope you liked it, and I hope you leave a review. I do enjoy hearing what people think!

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><p><strong>Sammie<strong>


	5. Bath Time

**Cindered Carols**

Harry wondered more than once if showing up for Christmas Eve dinner at the Burrow was the best way to go about things. Arthur Weasley assured him it was. His father-in-law had spent the past few days with Harry, helping him to complete his massive plan to win his wife back.

"You know I once got into a huge fight with Molly," Arthur said to Harry in Grimmauld Place's kitchen. Harry took two mugs out of the cupboard and filled them with freshly-brewed coffee. He handed a cup to Arthur and took one for himself. Arthur took one sip of the stuff and made a face. "Oh blecck! what is this stuff?"

"Muggles like it, apparently," Harry said taking Arthur's mug and pouring the contents of it into the sink. He poured his own coffee out too. "Personally, I think that it's revolting. What were you saying about Molly though?"

"Oh yes. Well when we were really young, after Bill and Charlie were born but before Percy, Molly got upset with me. I was supposed to babysit the boys while she had a day out, but I was called into work because of report involving seventy-eight flying carpets in the carpet store that were causeing a disturbance. Anyway, I wasn't sure what to do because I couldn't take the boys with me, but I would get fired if I didn't resolve the problem."

"I don't like where this is going," Harry said. He went over to James's high chair and poured some more Dragons 'n' Charms out on the tray. James laughed and clapped his hands.

Arthur looked sheepish as he leaned against the countertop and continued, "Well I ended up leaving them at home alone—I didn't have enough time to find a babysitter, you see—and Charlie ended up bleeding on Molly's great-grandmother's white afghan."

"Oh no," Harry said sympathetically. "I assume he was okay?"

Arthur grimmaced. "After a couple potions, a bone-mending spell, and a skin-healing charm. The afghan, however, was not so lucky. And Molly was furious with me. Made me sleep out in the broom shed for a week. And there are," Arthur shivered, "Spiders in there." Sometimes it was scary how much Arthur and Ron were alike.

"So what did you do?" Harry asked. Flinching slightly when James threw a well-aimed cereal at his head. "You'll be a chaser with that aim," he said as he caught the cereal and put it back on James's tray only to have it thrown off again. Harry didn't bother picking it up a second time, they would all be on the floor eventually.

"I made her a lovely dinner of perfectly-cooked gourmet ham and cheese sandwiches." Arthur grinned and winked. "But it was the thought that counted. I also offered to be on diaper-duty for the rest of our kids' lives. I didn't realize then that I would be on diaper duty for all seven of our kids."

"Urgh," Harry said. "Cleaning up for this little guy is enough. So what time is dinner tomorrow?"

"Six," Arthur said merrily. "Might I suggest you don't show up until then? Molly is a bear when she's cooking for a crowd."

"Isn't that every night?" Harry asked bemusedly.

"Touché," Arthur agreed, grinning himself. "Speaking of which, I must get back. Molly's making meatballs!"

Harry smirked as Arthur gave James a quick hug and apparated out of the kitchen with a stiff pop.

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><p>It was Christmas Eve and nothing was going right. At four in the afternoon Harry had gotten James up from his nap, much to James's dismay. While James was usually a happy baby, he absolutely loathed being woken from his naps. Harry couldn't wait until the kid was a teenager.<p>

He gave James a bath—how long had it been since the last one? This required many skills that Harry didn't possess. Ginny was always so good at this bath thing. He put James in the water, only to have James try and exercise his newly found ability to run. This resulted in James slipping on the wet, and thus slippery, plastic of the bathtub floor and hitting his chin on the jagged metal faucet. There was blood. James was crying. Harry could have cleaned the cut up in a second if only James would sit still, but that wasn't on the toddler's agenda. He struggled with the screaming James trying to get him still, but that proved very hard due to several factors: James was screaming and shaking, James was sitting wet in a slippery bathtub, James was bleeding, and Harry didn't want to get messy because unfortunately he had already changed into his own Christmas Eve attire. It was a whole ordeal, but finally Harry managed to get the bath finished, and moved James on to hair, clothes, and makeup—er, wait, just the hair and clothes.

James recovered from the bathroom incident quickly, and it was no surprise that he was his usual bouncing self while Harry tried to dress him.

"Ready to see your new brother?" Harry asked. He realized he was shaking. Not even the reporters that interviewed him made him nervous anymore—now his wife, she was a different story, especially today.

"Poopy!" James yelled, clapping his hands together.

"Right," Harry sighed, trying to shove James's tiny arms into the sleeves of his shirt. Harry wondered whether or not Ginny had decided upon a name for the new baby.

"I suppose we'll see," Harry muttered to himself, mopping his brow. He changed his own jacket, James had gotten the previous one sopping wet, and checked to make sure everything was perfect.

He grabbed James's travel bag—nappies, wipes, snacks, toys—and gathered up his son in his arms.

"Ready to go, James?" Harry asked, feeling quite proud of accomplishing the task of getting both himself and James ready.

James grinned bashfully up at him. He was wearing his 'poopy diaper' face.

Harry sniffed. "You did not!" he cried in exasperation.

"Poopy, Poopy, Poopy!" James said.

Harry laid James down on the floor in the foyer. "Maybe we should start calling you that, James."

James smiled back with his tiny toddler teeth, and Harry's anger melted away. Instead of nerves he'd been feeling all along, he was filled with the anticipation of seeing his wife again for the first time in five days. He couldn't believe he had missed five whole days of his youngest son's life. The thought made him feel like a terrible father. He didn't know how they would react to him traipsing back into their lives again—they would probably be mad—but he knew he had to do it. The thought of losing them was a thought that he never wanted to think about ever again.

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><p>AN: Are you enjoying the story? I hope so. Please leave a review, and tell me what you think if you would like. Or don't if you wouldn't like. See you next time! Oh P.S. I actually haven't written these chapters this fast—that would be crazy fast, within a day of each other, I have them all done, but I'm still proofreading and posting when I have a spare minute.

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><p><strong>Sammie<strong>


	6. Christmas Eve

**Cindered Carols**

"Uncle Harry!" five-year-old Victoire Weasley cried when he walked through the door holding James. "I haven't seen you in forever!"

"Nice to see you again, Vic," Harry said, tousling her blonde hair with his hand as she rushed to give him a huge hug. "Let me put James down."

"Teddy's teaching us how to make homemade dungbombs!" Victoire said happily. All of the Weasley cousins had a small crush on the older, 'wiser,' and generally cooler Teddy Lupin, honorary member of the Weasley clan since 1998.

"Are you sure your mother is okay with that?" Harry asked Victoire. Then he tickled James's belly and muttered to him, "Are we sure _Molly_ is okay with that?"

Victoire giggled and rushed off to where Teddy was sitting, surrounded by children, in the corner of the Burrow's living room. Today his hair was a festive red and green combination.

"Vic, I told you not to tell anyone!" Teddy said, grinning at the girl. He looked bashfully up at Harry who winked and muttered, "Don't worry I won't tell anyone."

The living room was dressed for the Christmas season in true Weasley style. The world's fattest Christmas tree was shoved in the bay window, and mountains of presents were stacked disastrously high underneath it. The fireplace had nineteen stockings hung on it, one for each family member starting with Molly and going from oldest to youngest ending with a little bitty stocking on the end that didn't have a name sewn on it yet. Ginny hadn't yet chosen a name for the little baby. Arthur had really outdone himself with the decorations this year.

Harry tickled James and took him to the area of the living room designated for the babies, where Charlie was currently on official baby watch. The youngest of the Weasleys, Louis, Molly, and Fred were currently involved in a very intense version of the tri-toddler tournament in which a crystal ornament was the golden egg, Percy was the dragon, and each of the kids were trying to collect the egg without getting a horrible round of tickling. So far, Percy 'the dragon' was the clear winner.

"Hello Harry!" Percy said excitedly snatching up Molly and tickling her belly so that she laughed infectiously. "You'll make an excellent hostage for the second task!"

"Sorry, Perce," Harry said grinning and swinging James down next to Fred, his same-aged cousin. "But I promised I'd help get dinner ready."

"Oh right," Percy said becoming a little less enthusiastic. "They're in the kitchen. Okay Fred! It's your turn to collect the golden egg!"

Harry turned and walked slowly toward the kitchen, leaving James the dangerous job of the fourth tri-toddler champion. One and a half years old, and he was already following in his father's footsteps.

Harry walked slowly into the kitchen, careful not to trip over the presents or the children but mostly wanting to extend the time he had left until Ginny would surely yell at him.

"Oh, Harry, you and your lovely hands!" Molly Weasley bustled. She pulled his palms out flat and spread a thick towel over them. On top of it, she set a large potato casserole. Harry felt his mouth water as the fumes wove their way up to his mouth.

"Table!" Molly commanded, and like her own personal robot, Harry went directly to the table and put the potatoes down in the middle of it.

"It's good to see you again, Mo—"

"No time now, Harry!" she said cutting him off. Her looked at her to find that her face was red as a tomato and she was sweating profusely. The kitchen was hot. Everyone was at work doing something, trying to squeeze an extra cutting board onto the counter or another pot on the four burner-stove which already had five pots on it.

"Chop!" the head chef commended tossing six humongous carrots at him and spinning him toward the countertop.

Harry got to work on a spare bit of counter on the end near the door.

"It really is lovely to see you too, Harry!" Molly said coming by and patting him on the back. "We should be ready to eat in about twenty minutes. Phew." She leaned back against the wall near Harry and mopped her damp hair out of her eyes.

Harry took a quick glance around the room to see if Ginny was there. She wasn't. Molly, however, caught him looking and instantly knew what he was doing.

"She's still getting herself and the baby ready," Molly said. "That baby can scream. I think he wants his daddy."

Molly didn't say it in a mean or accusing way, but Harry still felt his cheeks burn as an avalanche of guilt tumbled down on him keeping him rooted to the spot.

"Here you go, Gin," Molly said looking away, extending her arms, and grabbing a bundle from her. Harry spun around so fast that he nearly knocked his glasses off when he saw Ginny standing there, right in front of him.

"Harry," she breathed quietly. And it was only Harry in Ginny in the stifling kitchen of the Burrow. It was literally only Harry and Ginny; everyone else, including Molly and the baby had mysteriously left.

"Ginny," he said taking her in. On the surface she looked beautiful. She was wearing a black dress and her hair was perfectly coiffed. But then he looked at her eyes. It was always her eyes that gave her away. Harry had found that out years ago. He'd expected to see them flared with anger or despite. Instead they looked nervous and fearful. In all the years he had known Ginny, there were very few times she looked timorous. Like Harry himself, she always wore a façade of fearlessness.

"What are you doing here?" she asked. Her tone was calm, like she was genuinely surprised to see him.

"I-I wanted—"

"Don't you hate me?" Ginny asked quickly. "Aren't you furious with me?"

"Er, why?" Harry asked in confusion. "Aren't you furious with me?"

"Why would I be?" Ginny asked. Her gaze softened a little.

"Because I walked out on you! I left you with our week old baby, and you're not even feeling a little bit angry?" Harry asked, utterly confused.

"Wait . . . you're not mad that I lost control and kicked you out? That I left you with James?"

"No," Harry said. "I guess I never really thought of it that way. I always thought you'd hate me for leaving. I promised you I'd never leave you again."

"But I kicked you out!" Ginny argued. "Aren't you angry that I took our newborn, and you couldn't see him for a whole week?"

"Not even a bit," Harry said. They were already standing inches from each other, but Harry moved forward and engulfed her in a hug, lifting her up to her tiptoes and then up off the ground.

"So what happened?" Ginny whispered putting her head in the crook of his neck. They stood like that for a few minutes, leaving the question hovering above them in the air. Harry felt the eyes of the other Weasleys watching him from the arch that connected the kitchen to the living room. He felt Ginny's bare toes lean lightly on the tops of his feet and her arms wind themselves around him, holding tight. He felt some of the weight lift off of his chest, but not all of it.

"What happened was I was a big jerk. I was thinking of money and business before you and the baby. I was spending too much time thinking about myself and not enough—"

Ginny snapped her head up and stared at him again. "What are you talking about?"

"You said that. Before I . . ." he glanced down at her guiltily.

"Our home was just burned up by a fire! Do you think I meant any of what I said?" Ginny asked grinning.

Harry didn't return her grin. "Maybe a little."

This time it was Ginny's turn to look guilty. "I'm sorry. I know you have your big career and everything, but it might—"

"Not now," Harry said. "I'm sorry too, but now's not the time. Later okay? Now we should eat!" Harry called out, and the rest of the family filed in casually, acting as if they hadn't heard the entire conversation.

The rest of the night passed in good tidings and cheer. Family Christmases were always Harry's favorite. He spent most of the evening holding his still-nameless little boy and sitting next to Ginny. James, however, wanted nothing to do with his family as he had fallen under the magical spell cast by Teddy, also known as God to all children younger than him. Harry was both thankful and surprised that Teddy was so good with the little children.

"Do I spy a future sitter?" Ginny said. Harry was sitting on the couch, and she walked around it and plopped herself down next to him.

"Present time!" Molly called, gesturing to the massive pile of unopened presents. Harry tilted his head back and closed his eyes as all the children rushed to the center of the living room to open up their highly anticipated new presents. James toddled over with Fred, both wearing huge Christmas smiles on their gravy-stained faces. It was honestly the most adorable thing Harry had ever seen. And when James slipped and dragged Fred down with him, Harry couldn't help but laugh aloud.

"I can hold Albus," Ginny said. "Your arms must be tired; you've been holding him all night."

"Albus?" Harry asked. "That's his name?"

A smile unfolded across Ginny's lips. "Of course. It always has been. I just didn't realize it until now."

"Just so you know, I got you a present," Harry whispered, leaning toward her and burying his face in her sweet-smelling hair.

"Now you've gotten me excited. What d'you say we bust this joint and open it?" Ginny said smiling.

"After the presents," Harry returned. "I want to see James open his presents now that he's old enough. I'm sure it'll be a very epiphanous moment in his life."

"Right, as if he didn't have enough stuffed animals to last him a lifetime," Ginny said smiling. Harry loved that smile.

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><p>"Just tell me what it is!" Ginny exclaimed giggling a bit as Harry grabbed her hand and dragged her through the freezing night air toward Grimmauld Place.<p>

"Voila," he cried, untying the scarf around her eyes.

"Ah, watch the hair!" Ginny said as her hand shot up to rub her head. Harry watched her expression grow into a slight smile as her sight travelled up to the house. On the house the bricks were painted a fresh white, the windows scrubbed clean, and the ivy cleared from the front. Around it was the world's biggest bow: a gift for their family.

"Oh Harry, it's gorgeous," Ginny breathed. "How—"

"Come on in, Mrs. Potter," Harry said running up the icy porch steps and opening the door for her. Her mittened hand was plastered to her face but her cheeks were rosy and her eyes were glowing with affection.

"Oh Harry," she repeated, seemingly at a loss for words.

"Shoes off Mrs. Potter. We can't have you scuffing up the new floors," Kreacher said as kindly as he could muster.

"Thank you, Kreacher," Ginny said as she slipped her shoes off and followed Harry further into the foyer. "The portrait!" She gestured to a space of wall where Mrs. Black's portrait had previously hung. It now contained a picture of the Potters, all four of them: Harry, Ginny, James, and Albus.

"Elf magic isn't like wizards magic," Harry pointed out. "Kreacher helped with that one, but Mrs. Black still has a home in Kreacher's room in the attic with the rest of his, er, family."

Ginny giggled. Harry followed her through the rest of the house as she discovered every room he had reinvented: The kitchen was now cleaned. The living room's furniture was swapped for new things. The junk on the desk in the office was removed, and the desk repainted—he hadn't thrown away anything that was in the desk because you never know when a mundane object might just be a horcrux. Bookshelves were added which Ginny was free to fill with her own personal collection.

Where a formal living room once was, there was now a piano room, which housed Aunt Muriel's piano and a brand new bench. Harry watched as Ginny lifted the seat of the bench and breathlessly removed the book of carols he had placed there for her to play.

"Oh Harry," she whispered.

"Come on, upstairs," Harry said, glad that she approved of the present. They walked up the newly carpeted stairs to the second story. Harry walked her through James's bedroom, the nursery, and a bedroom that would be Albus's once he was old enough. Ginny couldn't help but display a surprised and elated smile every time Harry looked at her.

"Before we see our bedroom, there's one last room. This room," he said in a low voice, pushing open the door to the fourth bedroom. "Is for us."

It was the smallest of all the upstairs rooms, and Harry hoped Ginny would understand. They walked in to find a nothing more than a simple blue couch and a coffee table. Hanging on the walls were five black and white photographs: the muggle version, where the pictures didn't move. One was of Harry and Ginny when they were teenagers, surrounded by fellow schoolmates and hoisting up the Quidditch Cup after Gryffindor had won. The next was of Harry and Ginny on their wedding day. The third was of he two of them in the kitchen, swaying back and forth to a Celestina Warbeck song. The last two were of Harry and Ginny in the hospital, meeting both James and Albus for the first time.

Ginny looked up at Harry, and he explained: "We don't have to do it tomorrow, or this week, or even this month if you don't want, but I do think we need to sit down and talk. I feel like for the past few months we've been spreading apart, and I only want you to know that we're going to be together forever. I know you have some things to say, and I do too, but not now, okay?"

Ginny nodded. Already her hair had fallen in loose curls around her face.

"Now for the best present," Harry said grinning. They walked to the final bedroom, the master bedroom. "Your mum agreed to take care of the kids tonight, and Santa's already delivered James's and Albus's presents under our Christmas tree, and for tonight only, we can sleep soundly. Probably the only night we can say that for the rest of our lives. And I'm tired so, goodnight."

Ginny reached on tiptoes and hugged Harry, holding him tight. It was a simple, unspoken gesture, but Harry understood, and it meant a lot to him.

In the days and weeks that followed Ginny played the piano more and more often. Harry swore that every time her fingers touched the black and white keys, an angel was made. The piano turned out to be the one thing that could make Albus stop crying when nothing else could. It was a constant reminder of the fire that had tore apart their home, but it was also a constant reminder that they had made it through, even stronger on the other side.

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><p>AN: It's over...except for the epilouge which, by the time you read this, will already be posted. Thanks for sticking around, and I hope you enjoyed reading this. I'm a big happy-endings kind of a person. Please leave a review; it may make you feel better, maybe not. Thanks!

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><p><strong>Sammie<strong>


	7. EPILOGUE

Dear Albus Severus Potter,

If you're reading this, you probably think that we—your parents—are horrible people for giving you such an atrocious name. We wanted you to know why.

Albus Dumbledore was the headmaster of Hogwarts when we—again your parents—went to school. Despite seeming larger than life, brave, and powerful, which he was though he would adamantly deny it if asked, Albus was human. And like every human, Albus had his foibles and eccentricities. But he didn't let those things stop him from being the most inspiring wizard of his time. You should also be thankful that we didn't give you his full name because Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore is certainly a mouthful. Albus had a knack for uniting people in times of stress, as you did eleven years ago when you were just a baby. You still do bring us together to this day. We thank you for that and hope you keep this talent your whole life.

Then there is Severus. Severus Snape, though fairly tough on the Gryffindor house—especially your dear old dad—was one of the bravest men we ever knew. Severus gave up everything for the woman he loved and to defy darkness. We are _not _suggesting you go and get yourself killed—if you do, your mother will kill you—but we do hope you think about Severus's bravery when you go on to do great things like we know you will.

Tomorrow you will be heading to Hogwarts as a first year, and we wanted to share with you the reasons you have the name you have, Albus Severus Potter. We love you, Al. Have a kick-butt first year at Hogwarts.

Love,

Mum and Dad

P.S. Albus Severus was your father's idea. NOT mine. —Love, Mum

P.P.S. If anyone does tease you, tell them it was _Harry Potter's _idea, and he won't hesitate to kick their asses if need be. —Love, Dad

P.P.P.S. You're a goner, I already told the whole school to tease you, Poopy. —James

P.P.P.P.S. No he didn't. Have fun at Hogwarts, Al. —Lily

P.P.P.P.P.S. We do NOT need to be teaching him words like "ass," Harry. —Love, Mum

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><p><strong>P.P.P.P.P.P.S. This story was written by Sammie, but J.K. Rowling owns these characters, names, and related indica.<strong>


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